


On Return

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Sherlock December Ficlets 2017 [29]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sherlock December Ficlets 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Sherlock step foot in 221B Baker Street for the first time after the missions are complete.





	On Return

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the [Sherlock December Ficlets ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fcollections%2FSherlock_December_Ficlets_2017&t=NjRmODc4ZjE3OGJjNjUzYzg2NWVhY2QzMTRjNDJmOTUwMzdkOTRhMCxabzFVQjBkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfMPAp7-tN-90HMCNGHRDOw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmissdaviswrites.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167644180668%2Fsherlock-december-ficlets&m=0) challenge. Each will be its own story, though knowing me a couple may follow an arc of sorts.  
> The prompt used for this entry: Post-Holiday Many Happy Returns / Toys

After politely, but efficiently, relieving the understandably startled Mrs. Hudson of her frying pan, Sherlock had a nice long sit down with the woman at her kitchen table.

“I just can’t believe you’re back!” Mrs. Hudson squeezes his hand, tears of her happiness streaming down her face at seeing him alive and sitting with her, overriding the initial shock at simply seeing him alive. “It’s just as you’ve left it. Even after, John left. I couldn’t bear to let it out. I know you want to get reacquainted. I’ve delayed you long enough.”

“Good night, Mrs. Hudson. It’s good to be back.” Sherlock plants a kiss on top of her head as he stands.

“It’s good to have you back dear boy. Off with you, then.” She waved him off, knowing he was anxious to go.

It’s been over a year since he stepped foot in 221B. The last time he snuck in unbeknownst to everyone, but Mycroft. He hangs his coat and scarf on the pegs and opens the door to the sitting room. He stands in the doorway in the dark, looking into the room. It’s darker than usual as the curtains are closed, the street light barely illuminates the room. Sherlock continues to stand still in the door as he switches on the lights.

There’s a thin layer of dust over everything. Mrs. Hudson has dusted, but not in a while. He smiles to himself knowing that will be rectified first thing in the morning, when she comes with the morning tea. Along with the refrigerator being restocked with the bare necessities and all the other little things his favorite _Not-His-Housekeeper_ keeps in his home for him. In the interim he lets his eyes roam. Noting the little changes made since he left. Noting what remained the same. His favorite toys on the desk, the riding crop in the umbrella stand was still there, along with the skull on the mantelpiece quietly awaiting conversation as always.

His gaze gravitates towards John’s chair by the fireplace. It was an interesting forty-eight hours of returns to his life. Most were happy returns.

Lestrade, the person he expected to try to throttle him, had hugged him with joyous relief. Glad and surprisingly unsurprised at his reappearance thanks to Anderson's stream of conspiracy theories. Anderson of all people.

And wasn’t _that_ a surprise?

John, the person he expected to hug him with joyous relief, tried to throttle him, more than once. Sherlock was so wrapped up in his feelings of finally being able to see John after two years, he had not taken John’s feelings into consideration until he saw the man’s face.

_“Two years.”_

_“I thought…”_

_“I thought… you were dead.”_

_"Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that?”_

_“How?”_

The utter pain in his best friend’s voice on the last query, sears in Sherlock’s memory. It has been two days since he reappeared in John Watson’s life. He realizes now, that in a way, it was almost as emotionally cruel as the way he left it.

He still considered the good doctor his best friend, but was he John’s friend at all anymore?

It was his fault. He had to fix this. But how?

In spite of the almost fiancée’s assurances – Sherlock had observed John fiddling with the ring box before he hid it in his jacket pocket, but its significance did not occur to Sherlock until much later. It was the question he pondered for two days as he walked around London, getting reacquainted with his City, getting reacquainted with the rest of the people important to him. He had saved Mrs. Hudson for last because he knew once he saw her, he could actually go _home_.

He plopped tiredly into his chair, unbothered by the dust that quickly rose and then gently settled around him as he stared at John’s chair. He reached over and grabbed the Union Jack pillow to him. He has not slept in two days, even he could feel its effects and forced himself to go to his room. He was not in the least surprised that while the sitting room was untouched, Mycroft had arranged for his bedroom to be aired out and ready for him without Mrs. Hudson any the wiser. His clothing and toiletries already returned to Baker Street.

He had just changed into pyjamas, when his mobile vibrated. It vibrated with the pattern set for John. He almost dropped the mobile in his rush to get it out of his trouser pocket.

DO NOT RESPOND TO ANY OF THESE I DON’T WANT TO CONVERSE WITH YOU! – JW

You hurt me then, and now, without a thought, Sherlock. Without a thought! – JW

I don’t know if I can forgive you yet. I don’t know if I _should_ forgive you at all! – JW

Do not come to me. Do not call or text, carrier pigeon, anything. I will come to you when I think I can do so without wanting to ensure your certain death. - JW

Above all, as angry as I am with you right now, and I AM ANGRY, you fucking arse! I am glad you’ve returned. – JW

The texts stopped.

It was the immense relief he had felt from reading those words, as he wiped the tears that fell on the screen, which made Sherlock realize just how worried he had been about it. He would do whatever it takes to get back in his friend’s good graces.

Anything. 

His phone pinged one more time with John’s ping.

WELCOME HOME SHERLOCK – JW

Sherlock looked around his bedroom and the enormity of it all hit him. He had brought the Union Jack pillow with him, he clutched it close as he fell on his bed in exhaustion and joy. 

"I AM HOME!"


End file.
